


Ready Me a Tiny Corner

by LadyLade



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-02
Updated: 2015-09-02
Packaged: 2018-04-18 14:34:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,185
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4709537
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyLade/pseuds/LadyLade
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek didn’t want to believe it. He refused to, right up until he decided to wait at Stiles’ jeep to catch him after class and could <i>smell</i> the bitter scent of shame and anger leeching from the driver’s side. He couldn’t even face Stiles after that; he forwent his car and ran through the woods until his legs shook.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ready Me a Tiny Corner

**Author's Note:**

> Teen Wolf kink meme prompt: During their time together Peter was so impressed with both Stiles mind and his looks that he claimed him as mate against Stiles' will, intending to turn him after settling everything when he could keep Stiles safe and make sure nothing went wrong. When Derek killed Peter he, as an unmated male, inherited not only the position of alpha but the previous alpha's mate. Stiles.
> 
> So now they're both freaking out, Derek because he now has all these instincts towards Stiles, to keep him safe and happy and near and covered in his scent, and Stiles because he was raped and he can't tell anyone and now Derek's being weird. (Original is [here](http://teenwolfkink.livejournal.com/2069.html?thread=550677#t550677). Livejournal post is [here](http://ladylade.livejournal.com/10314.html).)
> 
> **Warning: references to rape.** It's not explicit, but there are mentions of rape and a conversation about rape.

The moment Peter’s heart stops, Derek feels it. A connection to the earth that Derek didn’t know was possible and his senses getting stronger and the _rush_ of power, god, he can almost understand how it sent Peter over the edge.

“I’m the Alpha now,” he says to the bedraggled group.

Scott looks crushed, and Derek will explain how he couldn’t take the chance that the cure was false, but not right now. Stiles even _smells_ terrified, and Derek thinks, _he’s probably in shock, I should get him to bed_. Then he starts, because Derek has never had a thought like that in relation to Stiles, but he figures that it’s just a byproduct of getting shot with two arrows, then a bullet, and then fighting off an Alpha. Even with all this new power, all Derek wants to do is sleep for a week.

“You should go home,” he tells them, and slowly they filter out: the Argents, Jackson and Stiles, and finally Scott.

>>> 

He doesn’t turn Jackson. He scares the boy shitless, but he can’t turn him, not right now. Derek thinks that he has a sort of unspoken treatise with the Argents, and that they might even help out with the other hunters that are bound to show up, but if Derek bites Jackson then they’ll hunt him down like the vermin Kate thought he was.

When Derek lunged at Jackson, though, he almost did it. It’s been so long since Derek had a real pack and he wants a wolf to be his; Scott isn’t his, not really, he inherited Scott. Derek wants that connection, that knowledge that he has someone who is irrevocably his.

After Jackson flees, Derek goes upstairs and falls to his mattress, sleep pulling him under even before he finishes bouncing.

>>> 

That night Derek dreams.

He dreams of fire and pain and hate. He dreams of running through a school and biting a human whose breath wheezes in his lungs. He dreams of a silver pendant and the stench of gasoline. He dreams of saying, “I like you, Stiles,” and then heat and friction and savoring sounds of desperation.

That night Derek dreams.

That morning he wakes up with the taste of Stiles’ tears on his tongue.

>>> 

Derek didn’t want to believe it. He refused to, right up until he decided to wait at Stiles’ jeep to catch him after class and could _smell_ the bitter scent of shame and anger leeching from the driver’s side. He couldn’t even face Stiles after that; he forwent his car and ran through the woods until his legs shook.

Stiles is his mate. Peter _forced_ Stiles, mated him without consent, and now Derek has not only inherited idiotic Scott, he’s also inherited _Stiles_. Derek has wanted a pack, even wanted a mate before, but never like this. Never like this.

>>> 

Derek planned on staying away from Stiles, but it doesn’t exactly happen. He’ll go to get food and Stiles will be buying milk. He’ll go to get gas and Stiles will be filling up his car. He’ll go to buy lumber so that his house doesn’t fall down and Stiles will be shopping for chains.

And each time, it gets harder and harder to keep the wolf from dragging Stiles off to a secret place and curling around him.

Two weeks after Derek killed Peter, he goes driving to clear his head, windows down and radio soft as he rides aimlessly through Beacon Hills. And _of course_ he ends up circling Stiles’ block, senses in overdrive when he passes Stiles’ house. The third time around he hears Stiles whimpering in his sleep, and something snaps.

Derek has the car parked and is at Stiles’ window in less than two minutes, peering in the dark room to see Stiles thrashing on his bed, the blankets tightening more and more as he struggles harder and harder. He presses the window open silently, and then he’s inside.

Derek stands at the end of Stiles’ bed and feels like a monster, watching Stiles sleep, _have a nightmare_ , and knowing his wolf is so satisfied to be so near to Stiles. The boy was raped, and Derek’s wolf is happy that he’s in Stiles’ room.

When Stiles starts hyperventilating, the sheets binding him almost eagle-spread, Derek moves forward and cautiously tugs on one end of the blanket. It’s difficult, but eventually Derek manages to unwind the blankets without Stiles waking up. As the blankets loosen around him, Stiles calms down, until he only moves to twitch a limb every once in a while. Derek figures that’s normal for the kid; if Stiles ever went completely still, it would probably make Derek panic.

He wants to crawl onto the bed and press his face into hollow of Stiles’ throat, lap at Stiles’ twitching fingers, rub his scent onto Stiles’ chest. He wants to press his teeth to Stiles’ throat until the boy relaxes. He wants to curl around Stiles until the boy smells happy. He wants to know if Stiles would be too hot with Derek resting on top of him, or if he would pull him closer. He wants, he _wants_.

Derek shuts the window when he leaves.

>>> 

Eventually, Scott comes to him.

“Why did you do it?” Scott finally asks. They’ve been sitting on Derek’s steps for the past five minutes.

“If you killed the Alpha and it wasn’t the cure, what do you think would happen?” Derek says. “Do you think that the Argents would have just left you alone? Do you think you’d be able to control all that power?”

“But what if it was the cure! You took that away from me,” Scott shouts.

“I’m sorry,” Derek says. “I’ll still teach you how to control it.”

Scott huffs, but he doesn’t say anything more about it. Then, “have you, do you know what happened between the Alpha and Stiles?”

Derek carefully does not tense, does not change his breathing. “Why?”

“It’s just, he’s, I’m worried,” Scott says. “He won’t talk about it and he’s been quiet lately—well, as quiet as Stiles gets. Even the teachers are starting to notice.”

“I don’t know,” Derek lies.

“He’s my best friend,” Scott says.

Derek could say a multitude of things, from, _finally looked away from Allison?_ to, _you don’t want to know_. In the end, he settles for saying, “Yeah.”

>>> 

Derek keeps telling himself that he won’t go back. Yet each night, just like clockwork, he’s in Stiles’ room and untangling the teen from his sheets and nightmares. He needs to stop, he does, but each time he sees Stiles or catches his scent, the wolf gets that much stronger against his impulse control.

And just like Derek knew would happen, one night Stiles wakes up.

The sound Stiles makes, a whine like his throat is too tight to scream, has both Derek and his wolf panicking. Stiles’ terror burst from him in a metallic scent that Derek almost gags on, and Derek fights the wolf’s rage down until he’s able to speak.

“Stiles,” Derek says, “Stiles, it’s okay.”

Stiles just stares at him vacantly, and Derek realizes that Stiles is still partially asleep.

“Stiles,” Derek says carefully, “you’re okay.”

He finishes untangling Stiles from his blanket and, as the cloud of terror slowly dissipates, Derek feels confident enough to pull the covers up to Stiles’ chin.

“Sleep,” he whispers, and Stiles closes his eyes.

>>> 

He runs. He can’t keep visiting Stiles, but he can’t stay away. So he runs and runs and runs, and then he destroys trees because he’s already destroyed Peter and he can’t destroy himself.

When he’s finished, he’s got splinters embedded in his forearms and hands, and there’s a litter of jagged wood all around him. He’s breathing so hard that his chest is aching.

It doesn’t help.

>>> 

When Derek hears Stiles’ jeep making it’s was down the road, Derek waits on the porch. It takes a few minutes, as the road isn’t anything more than dirt and tire tracks, but eventually Stiles pulls up. He’s twitchy and awkward when he comes up on the porch, just like always, but the wolf is being patient and Derek indulges both of them.

“I think, well, okay, it might have been a dream, but I think you were in my room last night,” Stiles says.

“You get tangled in your sheets and have nightmares,” Derek says.

Stiles gapes at him.

“You. You _tucked me in!_ ” Stiles says.

“Yes,” Derek says, and his wolf’s immense satisfaction is probably leaking onto his face.

“Why?” Stiles asks.

Derek clenches his jaw, looking away to the woods like it’ll be easier to have this conversation without looking at Stiles. Nothing will make this easier.

“I know what he did to you,” Derek says, and there are so many emotions in Stiles’ scent that Derek can’t even work through them. They all just mix together until Stiles smells like decay.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Stiles says. Both his voice and his body are shaking when Derek looks at him.

“He raped you,” Derek says, “but what you don’t know is that he claimed you as his mate.”

Stiles freezes.

Derek feels like he’s dying again.

“What?” Stiles says, voice just a wisp.

“When he—we only knot with our mates,” Derek says. He doesn’t know if he can do this.

“You, how do you know that?”

Anger is overtaking Stiles’ scent, and oddly it relieves Derek. If Stiles can still get angry, he can get through this.

“When a werewolf kills an Alpha, he inherits his position,” Derek says. “It works almost like a wolf’s blood memory. I know because I inherited his pack, which includes his mate.”

“You—oh no,” Stiles says, and scrambles to get off the porch.

Derek almost doesn’t go after him. He almost lets Stiles drive off so he can take some time to think, and come back on his own. But this needs to end, even if Stiles hates him for it.

He tackles Stiles three feet from his jeep, and Stiles goes wild. He thrashes and punches and kicks, even tries to _bite_ before Derek wrestles him to the ground and pins there. His wolf is whining, wants nothing more than to bathe Derek’s scent into Stiles’ skin until Stiles stops smelling metallic.

“Get off!”

Derek is on his feet so fast that it takes Stiles a few seconds to realize he’s standing.

“I’m not Peter,” Derek says. “I won’t force you to do anything, but we need to finish this conversation.”

Stiles takes a deep breath, and stays where he is. “Yeah, yeah, okay.”

Derek sinks down, slow and careful, until he can sit on the leaf-covered ground. Stiles sits up as well, and they both sit cross-legged, two feet apart.

“What Peter did,” Derek starts, “isn’t how we mate. Mates are supposed to be fully aware what mating entails, and we never, _ever_ force our partners to bond. We aren’t supposed to hurt our mates.”

“What’s bonding?” Stiles asks.

“I’m bound to you,” Derek says. “I recognize you as pack, as family. I want to protect you.”

“Great,” Stiles says, “that’s great. You won’t slam me into walls and I can tell you when I think you’re being stupid without worrying about getting eaten anymore. This has been an awesome talk, but…”

“There are going to be things that I do, instincts, that will be weird to you. I might start bringing you food. Not dead animals,” Derek glares at the twist of Stiles’ face, “but actual food. I’ll keep showing up in your room when you have nightmares. I’ll want—I’ll want to scent-mark you.”

“You’ll want to _pee on me?_ ”

“No you idiot,” Derek says. “I’ll want to touch you, transfer my scent onto you.”

“No, wait, you said—” Stiles starts hyperventilating.

“If you tell me to stop, I will,” Derek says. “I’m not going to be all over you. It won’t even happen right away. I’ll just start putting my hand on your shoulder, or brush past you. Nothing extreme.”

“So, so the Alpha.” Stiles can’t even finish, and Derek doesn’t make him.

“He was twisted,” Derek says. “I don’t know what the bond would have done to him, or what he would have done to you.”

Stiles’ face crumples and he struggles, but he doesn’t cry. The pride Derek feels and the want to make everything okay again are battering against each other and driving him crazy. Stiles, _his mate_ , is so strong, in a way that Derek wasn’t when he was Stiles’ age. Derek lets the wolf guide him and, watching Stiles the entire time, leans forward and down until he can nudge his nose into Stile’s palm. When Stiles flinches and looks down at him, Derek nuzzles against him and then laps a line on the heel of Stiles’ hand.

Stiles makes a face. “Is this where I tell you that you’re a good dog?”

“I will rip your throat out,” Derek says, “with my teeth.”

Stiles laughs, short and barking, and Derek smiles against his palm.

**Author's Note:**

> The title is a line from Roger Bonair-Agard's [Your Bed is Too Small for Fucking and Poetry](http://fluttering-slips.tumblr.com/post/48697139410/your-bed-is-too-small-for-fucking-and-poetry).


End file.
